


English

by Ametistina



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-06
Updated: 2008-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ametistina/pseuds/Ametistina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s simple, Ray,” Fraser said calmly. He sank the fourteen ball and began sizing up the solids. “It’s just a matter of the English.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	English

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post to [](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_snippets/profile)[**ds_snippets**](http://community.livejournal.com/ds_snippets/) this week, using the prompt "English." Unfortunately, the story that I came up with really couldn't be told in 300 words or fewer—I think I got it down to 359 before giving up. Instead I'll just post it here (with a few words added back in).

“It’s simple, Ray,” Fraser said calmly. He sank the fourteen ball and began sizing up the solids. “It’s just a matter of the English.” Fraser was running the table, as usual.

From his post against the wall, Ray peered at Fraser through narrowed eyes. “English?” he repeated incredulously. “So help me, Benny, you start spouting that ‘God save the Queen’ nonsense and you can hang out with Turnbull tonight.” He knew what Fraser meant, but this was more fun.

Fraser glided around the table, lining up his next shot. “Not that kind of English. It’s what you call the spin you put on the ball.” The three ball disappeared into the corner pocket. Fraser cocked his head slightly. “Though of course there is a long history of billiards in England—Shakespeare refers to the game several times, most notably in _Antony and Cleopatra_ —“

Ray groaned. “You’re kicking my ass in pool, and now you’re going to start quoting Shakespeare?” he said with mock exasperation. The trivia, the bickering, Fraser’s freaky ability to do everything well—it was just like old times. When they fell into this routine, he could almost forget the past three years. No undercover, no Florida, no divorce.

“God, Benny, I missed you,” Ray muttered.

Fraser looked surprised as the four ball spun off uselessly against the rail. He paused, still leaning over the table, and flashed a heart-stoppingly brilliant smile at Ray. “I missed you too, Ray.”

Ray unfolded himself from the wall, then busied himself chalking his cue. Shit, was he blushing?

When he looked up, Fraser was standing entirely too close. “You know,” Fraser offered, his voice soft and velvety, “I could teach you what I know about billiards.” He wrapped one large hand around Ray’s wrist, squeezing for just a second. “If you like.”

Ray felt pinned in place by the intensity of Fraser’s gaze. The image that popped into his head—Fraser leaning in close to instruct him on a shot—was far too intimate, too dangerous for two men in a Chicago pool house. This _wasn’t_ like old times, not at all.

Then Fraser backed away, and it was like it never happened. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe Fraser was just being helpful again. Except—well, between the look and the squeeze of the wrist, he’d put a slightly different spin on it.

On his next shot, Ray scratched.


End file.
